Friday, 7 August 2015

The post-holiday blues


It's been a funny old week.

Since coming home from holiday last week I've had a very severe case of the post-holiday blues.

I felt like I'd fallen back to earth with a bump, a huge bump, which meant I soon started looking at property prices in Devon (expensive) and dreaming of moving there permanently.  I don't normally feel like that after a holiday, but I loved Devon so much and could really imagine myself living there.

I decided to talk to the girls about it, and see if I could talk them 'round to the idea.

The Teenager was enthusiastic, and as she is hoping (fingers crossed) to start uni in September said she doesn't mind where 'home' is. 'Do it', she said, 'do it before you're too old'. I think she was trying to be encouraging.

Tall Daughter didn't feel the same. I spent the next few days trying, fruitlessly, to convince her that we should move to Devon. but she's 15 and due to begin her GCSEs in September, plus she doesn't want to leave her friends or her paternal grandparents who live nearby.

All completely reasonable reasons for her wanting to stay put, and I really do understand that.....but, but, my yearning to move away from the north-west and find a better quality of life elsewhere is so strong and has been getting stronger ever since Dad passed away five years ago. I should have moved then, that was the right time to do it, but I hesitated and the moment passed, and now I feel a bit trapped.

My head tells me that now is not a good time to move, but my heart has been telling me for quite a while that we should move, somewhere near the coast maybe, somewhere more rural, or even just anywhere away from here.

I don't know what to do, and my head has been full of 'should we, shouldn't we' all week.

And then, amidst all my property searches on Rightmove and Googling 'the best place to live in Devon' and 'top colleges in Devon', an email arrived from an old friend, who I hadn't heard from in a couple of years. Turns out in that time he has met someone, fallen in love, married her and moved lock, stock and barrel to France. It was a curious feeling of jealousy and delight I felt for him, if I'm honest, but it was his insistence that I should follow my heart that confused me even more. "You know, sometimes, you've just got to go for it" was exactly what I did and didn't want to hear.

So now I'm even more conflicted than ever, which is helpful.

Since then, I've spoken to two other people who decided to uproot their families and move location: one family from London to the countryside, and the other family from Italy to - guess where? - Devon and I'm hoping to persuade them to share their stories on here.

Have you ever moved to a different part of the country, or even a different country? Are you glad you did it?